The First
by The-First-Polymythical
Summary: Miraak was a legend, albeit one that most had forgotten. And despite his strength, pride, and battle prowess, even he started with nothing. A story about the First Dragonborn.


**Seriously. FF needs more Miraak.**

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Miraak was having the flying dream again.

While his physical body lay resting, his spirit flew up, up, into the heavens, where his wings slashed through the clouds and he could see all of Solstheim far below him. The air was clear and crisp, filling his lungs with a vitality that was unknown to his waking self. The time of day varied, from high noon to dawn to the dead of night, but now it was the last rays of dusk, and the fading sun painted the whole world a shade of deep, dark red. His body, so perfectly designed for the skies, soared low near the mountains, so close to the stones that he could have reached his claws out and grasp hold of the mountain's peak. He continued flying low, following the mountain to its base, where he landed with a graceful flick of his wings. He let out a deep breath, and steam from his nose coiled into the air. It was almost dark now, but despite the vanishing sun he wasn't cold in the slightest. It was an amazing feeling, to be this close to the rawness of the world yet be so much stronger than it.

In the distance, Miraak could see a small dot of flickering fire light, and the pungent smell of smoke wafted to him on the breeze. There was more than one fire going, yet all but one where hidden to him. When he looked not just at the fire, but at the area as a whole, he could see homes made of wood and stone, and even a handful of humans milling about within the area's confines. _The village_, Miraak mused to himself. Very rarely did his home make an appearance in his dreams. . . and in his flying dreams, it was even less often.

With careful steps he drew nearer, and despite his size stealth did not seem to be impossible for him. It was not until he was in the shadows of the village's edge that anyone seemed to notice him. And by then, he could recognize faces and put names to all the people that he saw. There was Mirn the First Hunter, speaking in his gruff, tuneless voice with Graseif the blacksmith. The village leader, Toreeg, sat silently alongside his wife, Ninna, who was sharpened a blade with slow, practiced movements. They were all gathered around the village's central fire, warming themselves against a chill that Miraak could scarcely feel.

Suddenly, Ninna glanced up from her blade and into the shadows, her eyes piercing the darkness and finding a dragon positioned, still as stone, right outside of her people's boundaries. With a startled cry she leapt to her feet, the whetstone dropping to the ground with a soft thud. Mirn, Graseif, and Toreeg saw him now as well, and before Miraak could blink they were all brandishing weapons he had not seen them draw. He stepped back uneasily, his dreams had never gone like this before, but his elders advanced on him so quickly that he did not have time to yell for them to stop.

Ninna, the speediest of the bunch, landed a blow to him before the others. Her newly sharpened blade crashed against his scales, but there was no bite or sting of pain. The sharpening seemed to have done it little good, because Miraak's scales were far tougher. Mirn was next, because he had drawn his hunting bow and Miraak knew he wouldn't miss such an obvious target standing not so far away. The First Hunter shot and the arrow logged itself between his protective scales, sending a ripple of pain across his left shoulder.

Miraak screamed, but the sound came out as the deafening roar of a monster instead of a human cry of pain.

Graseif lashed out at him with an iron mace, and Miraak could feel the impact, but little pain. Toreeg, however, had a long sword at his disposal and when the village leader landed a blow near the arrow's place of impact, Miraak felt more pain rip through his shoulder.

"_Stop, can't you see it's me_?!" he cried, but as the words left his mouth, even he did not fully understand them.

Ninna, spotting a weak spot in his scaly armor, lunged forward and used her sword to pierce were the scales had been weakened.

This time, when Miraak cried out in agony, not only did a great roar fill the air, but a great jet of flames also rushed past his teeth. Toreeg, who had moved aside to allow his wife room to strike, was met with a face full of scalding fire. He screamed a very human scream, and Miraak saw the life leave his eyes. Quickly, he snapped his maw shut, and the flames disappeared. But the damage was done, and now other villagers were waking, coming out of their homes with their weapons ready. Ready to kill the dragon, to slay the beast that he killed their leader.

Miraak screeched as another arrow pierced his scales and he pleaded desperately with himself to just wake up, _wake up_!

"Miraak, wake up!"

The young Skaal sat bolt upright, his heart racing in his chest and sweat plastering his fine hair to his forehead.

His sister, Jinkii, was looking at him with concern written all over her face. "Sorry, you were having some sort of nightmare. You kept crying out in your sleep. . . I had to wake you."

Miraak nodded weakly, and Jinkii could barely make out the movement in the dark. She had lit a candle when she had heard his thrashing, but it was the only source of light in the room since the moon outside was hidden by a thick layer of dark clouds.

The two of them shared a room in their family's small, wooden home for as long as Jinkii could remember, but she had never seen Miraak have such a vicious night terror before. It worried her. Her older brother had already been acting so distant lately. Could this have stemmed from what was making him distance himself from her during the daytime as well?

Miraak took several deep breathes, and once he had calmed his breathing, looked more closely at his sister. Her blonde hair was loose and messy from sleep, and she was clothed only in her thick, soft night time garb. She clutched a candle in one hand and a dagger in the other, as if she thought something might have been attacking him. Miraak swallowed uneasily. The glint of steel in the fire light reminded him to much of his dream.

"Put that away," he said, his voice still gruff from sleep.

Jinkii looked down at the dagger in her hand, and then moved back over to her own bed, were she sheathed it and slipped it back under her pillow.

Miraak hoped that she would just lie back down and go to sleep, but instead she came back to him so that she could sit on the edge of his bed.

"Are you alright, brother?"

Miraak felt the question hang softly in the air for a moment as he contemplated his answer. He could feel phantom pains in his left shoulder, but otherwise he was fine. . . although he knew that his sister was not asking him about his physical being. Mentally he felt. . . shaken. His flying dreams, or dov dreams, had started a few years past, although they had never been what he would have called a night terror before. If anything, they had been enjoyable. This was the first time things had gone so badly. Miraak shuddered involuntarily, and Jinkii's look of concern grew.

"You can tell me anything," she prompted, but Miraak shook his head. Surely this was a onetime thing, the consequence of eating bad horker meat, maybe.

"I'm fine. Just let me go back to sleep."

Jinkii could feel the exhaustion radiating from her brother, even though she couldn't see him very well in the dark room. She would let him sleep for now, but if she had to wake him again he _would_ do some explaining.

The younger Skaal got up and walked back over to her own bed, a mess of furs and pelts, on silent feet. She gave her brother one last look before she blew out the candle, and the room was thrown into darkness once again.

Miraak sighed with relief and lay back down to stare up at the wooden ceiling.

Once Jinkii had made herself comfortable again, Miraak heard her say, "Sleep well, Miraak" before she drifted back off into the land dreams.

What she didn't know was that Miraak didn't sleep well that night, because after his nightmare he could not go back to sleep at all.

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**Reviews are greatly appreciated, since I'm not very good at catching my own mistakes.**

**It should be known that I know very little about Elder Scrolls lore. If something is off in that regard, I would really like to know.**


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